


The Light-Fingered Roommate

by IrisCalasse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Consent, F/M, Head Boy Draco Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Oral Sex, Pining, Roommates, Shameless Smut, Spanking, tol/smol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisCalasse/pseuds/IrisCalasse
Summary: Draco Malfoy hates rooming with Hermione Granger. It's not because she's a Muggleborn - it's because she gets into all his stuff. She eats the snacks he hides away. She uses his conditioner. She even wears his old Quidditch jerseys and it's driving him crazy. One day, he thinks, his light-fingered roommate is going to get what's coming to her!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 31
Kudos: 388





	The Light-Fingered Roommate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We Should Get Jerseys](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172287) by [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik). 



> Based on a piece of art by LadyKenz347! My alpha is PeachPenguin91.

Draco Malfoy, Pureblood, "the Slytherin Prince", and Hermione Granger, Muggleborn, "the Golden Girl", were Head Boy and Head Girl. They had come from a war and they had learned from their mistakes. They were mature. They were civil. They weren't friends, but they weren't hexing each other, either. They mostly managed this by not spending time together, and staying at least a foot away from the other at all times. 

It was something that Draco really, really regretted sometimes, because Hermione was quite possibly the worst roommate he could ever have, and he would have loved the chance to grab her and shake some sense into her. Among other things.

"Granger," he called out, "did you eat the pack of crisps I had on my bookshelf?"

She popped her head out of her room into the common room that they shared. "Oh, were they yours?" she asked, her big brown eyes looking doe-like and innocent. Innocent, his arse. "Sorry, just, they were in the common room, and I was hungry, and I didn't want to bother the house elves to make me a snack..."

"They were on _my_ shelf, Granger. First and second from the top are mine, and all the other five shelves are yours, it's not that hard to remember."

She pouted. "You're not supposed to leave food on the bookshelves anyway. They'll attract mice and insects. Your poor books."

Draco stared at Hermione for a long moment. "You can't just pout to get your way all the time, Granger," he grumbled to himself. He turned away, and Hermione went back to her room. Just another day in the miserable life of Draco Malfoy...  
  


* * *

  
"GRANGER!"

Draco pounded at the door that connected the shared bathroom to the Head Girl's bedroom. He had wrapped a towel hastily around his waist, but he was too damn angry to bother with much else. He pounded at the door again.

"What?"

Hermione yanked the door open to find her nose nearly touching a wet, naked male chest. In an attempt to level the playing field, she rose on the balls of her feet, but even so she was only at a level with a roseate mouth and enviably even teeth. She felt her face flushing. There was nothing for it but to step away slightly and turn her glare upwards at her erstwhile roommate. "What?" she repeated, trying to get back the anger she'd felt at being yelled at earlier, which had quickly fled and hidden behind her embarrassment.

"You've used up all my conditioner!" He waved the empty bottle for emphasis. He noticed that she had the good grace to blush for shame.

"Sorry, I'll buy you a new one?" she offered.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You can't."

"Is it very expensive?"

"I make it myself."

Oops. "Um... it's really good? It works so much better than the one I usually use."

"I noticed," Draco groused, eyeing her hair. Since she'd started using his conditioner, it had fallen in defined curls that begged for fingers to be thrust into them. And it smelled relentlessly of apples and honey. Draco had chosen the apple cider and honey base because he had a sweet tooth and they did wonders on his platinum blonde crown, but he now had other reasons. Harder, longer reasons, which pointed relentlessly towards Hermione, ever since he had started associating the scent with her.

"I... I can pay you," she offered again.

"Never mind," Draco sighed, having quite lost his anger. He turned back to the bathroom and closed the door. He'd have to finish his shower cold. Just another day with Hermione Granger.

* * *

  
The last straw was when he came back from supper at the Great Hall and found her wearing one of his old Quidditch jerseys. He knew she had a collection of the things - she had one that said Weasley and one that said Krum, though she seemed to favor wearing the one that said Potter at the back. He hated seeing her wear those jerseys. He hated the fact that she kept wearing them anyway. And now she'd apparently decided to add to her collection, quite without his permission.

She looked up at him as he stood motionless at the door of the common room, taking in her tousled hair and her round, pale thighs as they peeked from under the hem of the shirt. It was so long it was almost a dress on her - a dress that very prominently labeled her "Malfoy".

 **"Oh good, you're back,"** she said, setting aside the quill and parchment she had been using. The lower hem of the jersey rode up as she absent-mindedly scratched her head and fluffed her hair out. Draco thought he could just barely make out the lace of a minuscule pair of boy-cut knickers.

 **"Merlin, Granger, you're going to kill me,"** he groaned, pressing his hand against his mouth to stifle the sound.

Wasn't it enough that he had nearly pounced on her just the previous week, when she'd pouted so prettily at him? He'd wanted to take her face in his hands, pull her plump lower lip into his mouth, nibble on it until she gasped, and from there proceed to snog her senseless.

Wasn't it enough that she had stood barely an inch from his naked body just yesterday, warm and flushed and smelling so sweet he could have taken a bite from her, and he'd had to go back into the bathroom and rut furiously into his fist until he came onto the tiles?

Now she had to speak to him, looking all adorable and rumpled, while she flashed her legs at him and practically proclaimed herself to be his.

Which she was not, by Merlin, Circe, and Morgana, but damn if his dick wasn't getting ideas of its own.

"Granger," he bit out, "why are you wearing my jersey?"

She looked surprised, then flushed, as she looked down at herself. "Ah," she said, a very intelligent comment, as it was pretty much all Draco could have managed at the moment, himself. She seemed to gather herself, and after a moment she stammered, "It's um, it's very comfortable."

"I know," Draco replied, though the feelings that the sight of her was evoking was nowhere near comfortable. If he had his way she'd wear that jersey and nothing but that jersey for the rest of his life, which would probably be very short because he was sure that the sight would eventually lead him either to a heart attack, or to exhaustion from too much wanking. "Where..." (he had to swallow) "where did you get it?"

"I... um. I nicked it. This. From the bathroom." She flushed even darker at her admission.

From the bathroom. Where he'd hung it after training, waiting for the house-elves to get it and launder it. It would have been pressed and folded and returned to his dresser once it was cleaned. Which meant she'd taken it while it was still sweat-stained, and she'd put it on, and she'd stayed here since then wearing practically nothing underneath instead of going to the Great Hall and having supper with everyone else. And now she stood in front of him, blushing to the roots of her hair, and she had said _it was good that he was back._

There was an idea forming in Draco's mind. Or his cock. He wasn't very particular at the moment. The words were out of his mouth before he even realized them. "You've been a bad girl, haven't you, Granger?"

She gulped, her eyes blowing wide, and he noticed one of her hands clutching at the hem of the jersey, inching it marginally upward. He arched one eyebrow and sent her a look of challenge. "Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson."

Hermione bit her lip and lowered her eyelashes in response. "Perhaps I do," she said softly.

Draco's knees nearly gave way, but he managed to hold onto his authoritative demeanor, just barely. Before the war, he’d snogged his share of girls and had had sex with a few as well; after all, he wasn’t dreadfully unattractive, like Goyle, and he wasn’t gay, like Theo. But he’d had more important things on his mind than hoeing himself around like Blaise, so he’d never really gotten a lot of hands-on experience. And then the war had ended, but of course he’d been wanking off to the thought of his annoying, light-fingered roommate practically since the beginning of the school year. The fact was that he knew more from his nighttime reading than he did from practicals. He’d surprised himself by thinking up this little power play, but he knew he had to be the dominant one.  
  
He sat down on the common room sofa and patted his lap. "Come here," he said, his voice rough and gravelly. He half expected her to laugh and prance away, having beaten him so completely at this sudden game of flirting-but-not-touching, but she actually crossed the room and stood in front of him. The fact that he was seated and she was standing meant that, with their height difference, her breasts were at a perfect level to look at and to taste. He knew the moment she realized it because her hands flew up to rest lightly on top of each full globe, and her nipples made themselves known just under her wrists. He grinned wolfishly at her. "On your belly, Granger," he said, patting his lap again, showing her where she should go. If she wanted to play like this with him, she'd have to be willing to place herself in his power; he wasn't going to touch her without her consent and participation, even if he'd have the worst case of blue balls ever.

They looked at each other for an interminable moment.

"Okay," Hermione finally said. She draped herself over Draco's thighs, the softness of her breasts a heavy weight on one side and her round ass on the other. "Punish me," she said, throatily. "Please."

It was the "please" that did him in. Draco's cock, already alert, came to full attention, and he was sure it was poking Hermione rather uncomfortably in the waist. He placed one large hand on the satiny skin of her legs, rubbing it with no small amount of wonder, as his other hand lifted the hem of the jersey. He didn't take it off. Fuck, no. Seeing his name emblazoned on Hermione's back was probably going to be one of his lifelong fetishes. He left the shirt rucked up just enough to reveal that as he had suspected, Hermione was wearing boy-cut knickers. What he hadn't expected was that they were in emerald green satin embellished with silver lace, and just like that he discovered another lifelong fetish: seeing Hermione in Slytherin-colored underclothes. The hand that had been rubbing Hermione's legs moved quickly over her knickers instead. He used his thumb and the base of his palm to press large circles around her cheeks, alternating with wide, firm pinches using his entire hand. He continued until he felt the crotch of Hermione’s knickers begin to dampen. She didn’t make a sound all the while.

"Shall we begin your punishment?" he asked Hermione, who had placed her hands on the floor. Her hair hung down nearly as far. She nodded.

Placing one hand carefully on Hermione's back, Draco drew his other one back and delivered a sound slap with his slightly-cupped hand. He looked at Hermione to gauge her reaction. She had closed her eyes, but otherwise not reacted much at all. He rubbed her buttocks slightly, so that he was sure that all the pain was gone, and then slapped her again, this time with his open palm. Hermione reacted a little bit more to this -- she had opened her eyes wide as their flesh met, then closed them once more -- but again, her reactions weren't quite as strong as Draco would like. He flashed through everything he'd read about spanking. He was probably forgetting something important, but all he could think of at the moment was getting her knickers off.

"Granger," he said in a would-be confident tone, "I'm going to to take your knickers off, and hit your bare bottom." He found himself tacking "May I?" at the end, ruining the effect, but he couldn't take it back any more.

“Hermione,” she said from somewhere near his calves.  
  
Draco, still feeling a little foolish but a lot aroused, had a hard time comprehending. “Sorry, what?”  
  
“If you'll be touching my arse, and I’m hoping you won't stop there, shouldn't you be calling me Hermione? ... Draco?”

If Draco had been a Muggle, he would have described what was going on in his mind as “short-circuiting”. Since he was a wizard and woefully unknowledgeable of electricity-related metaphors, the best he could come up with was “discombobulation”.

Just kidding, even that was way too much. He could barely string together two syllables: “Fuck, yes.”

Still, what his words lacked in coherence, his body knew how to say. He deftly slipped his hands under Hermione’s stomach, lifting her off his lap; in a moment he had changed position to tote her over his shoulder with her bum in the air, tantalizingly close to his face. She giggled as he carried her like a caveman into his man-cave and deposited her onto his bed. The sheets, as expected, matched her knickers and the stolen jersey she was wearing. They were soft and silky against her face, and smelled of cedar and bergamot. In contrast, Draco’s hands were scarred and callused, not at all what she had expected of the spoiled Pureblood prince -- but they felt divine against her skin.  
  
Draco didn’t ask for Hermione’s permission again. As soon as he saw that she was comfortable in his bed, he climbed in next to her. He made short work of her knickers, sliding them down her legs and into his pocket. If she would be absconding with his clothes, after all, it seemed only fair that he took some of hers in turn. He gazed at the full moons of Hermione’s behind; someday he would wax poetic about them, but right now all he wanted to do was grab and squeeze. And maybe bite. No, later, later. Right now he was supposed to be punishing her.  
  
He brought his hand sharply against her right butt cheek, mimicking the action of her palm against his face so many years ago. “Yes. A bit more force, please,” she requested, sounding like a gourmet ordering a wine and cheese pairing at a restaurant.

Not enough, then? After a moment of massaging the area he'd hit, he tried the other cheek, a little harder, enough to leave a light pink mark. She gasped but gave no other indication of either pain or pleasure.  
  
Draco didn’t really want to hit her very hard, but it was clear she needed more than he was giving her at the moment. Maybe a difference in texture? He’d read that using different materials for left and right made spanking more pleasurable. He looked around for something, anything that could contrast with his bare hand --  
  
He found his tool of choice, and brought it smartly across Hermione’s buttocks.  
  
She moaned, for the first time since they started, a sound of pure lust that sent goosebumps across Draco's whole body.  
  
Draco stopped short. "“Really, Hermione?” he said, frowning. “I’ve been touching you for several minutes now and you hardly react, but I slap you with this _once_ and you moan like that?”  
  
Hermione flipped herself over so she could see what Draco was holding. It was _Hogwarts, a History_ . She giggled, and shrugged apologetically. "I like books," she said.  
  
“Alright, that’s it, playtime’s over,” Draco declared in response, tossing aside the offending book. There was no way, _no way_ he was letting _a book_ out-sex him. Especially not _Hogwarts, a History_ . He crawled over to Hermione and leaned on his elbows so that he was face-to-face with her. “I’ve been thinking about you, about this, for months.”  
  
“And yet you’re still talking, not doing,” Hermione challenged.

So he didn’t say anything. Instead he buried one hand in her hair and captured her lips with his own. He nibbled on the pouty lower lip that had so teased him before, and when she opened her mouth he was quick to explore her with his tongue. His other hand crept down to part the wiry brown curls concealing her sex, and there mimicked the actions of his tongue -- dipping, fluttering, moving in circles. He pinched her mons gently together and slapped them lightly with his fingers, earning a whimper, and he smiled against her lips. He slipped his middle and pointer fingers just inside her to take some of her fluid, and rubbed them in a vee against her clit. His rough fingers and her slick wetness provided a very pleasant contrast indeed, especially when he alternated them with an occasional press from his thumb.  
  
Hermione wasn’t passive. When Draco’s tongue slipped into her mouth, she gamely met it with her own. When he began to finger her, it wasn’t long before she was groping for the fastenings of his trousers. She was unable to unfasten them, so she impatiently pushed until Draco’s hand came down to unfasten it himself, and she promptly dove her hand into his pants to fondle his shaft. She’d felt it poking into her side while she was lying on his lap earlier and she knew it was hot and hard; she was pleasantly surprised to find, as she explored it with her fingers, that it was a good size, slightly larger than the two she’d tried before but not so large that it scared her. He was soft and hard at the same time, like a velvet glove over a steel rod, and as she wrapped her fingers around him she could feel him twitch. She had the sudden urge to take him into her mouth, involuntarily salivating at the thought, and she pulled away from Draco’s heated kisses. He looked confused until she said, “I want to taste you.”  
  
She didn’t know exactly what they did, but they managed to arrange themselves correctly: Draco lying on his back on the bed, with Hermione’s thighs bracketing his face and her pussy at his mouth; Hermione on all fours, her ass in the air, her hair forming a curtain around Draco’s hips as his cock brushed her lips and chin. She’d never been in this position before but she was moving on instinct, the pillar of Draco's manhood calling to her like a beacon. She grasped his shaft lightly with one hand and gave it one long lick from base to tip, her tongue flattening against it. It was faintly salty but otherwise tasted clean, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Deciding to go all in, she lifted her face a little and popped the whole thing in her mouth, or well, she tried. It didn’t fit. She sucked in her cheeks and scraped her teeth very lightly across the shaft, tracing the veins and the head of his cock with her tongue, peppering tiny open-mouthed kisses on it as she moved her head up and down.  
  
Draco was very much enjoying this position. He’d never actually tried spanking before today; he was still on the fence about it at the moment, perhaps he needed some more samples to decide. This position, too, was new, but he had already decided he was going to attempt a repeat as often as he possibly could. It had a lot to do with how Hermione was going at his dick like a popsicle in summer heat. But also, she was open to him, and if he’d enjoyed using his hands on her arse and pussy, it was _nothing_ to using his tongue. Holding her waist with both hands, every now and then languidly stroking her back and squeezing her breasts and nipples, he began to worship at the altar of her core. He buried his nose against the firm bud of her clit, alternating between laving it with his tongue and suckling on it. He reached out his tongue to taste her juices, drawing in and nibbling at her lower lips much like he had snogged her earlier. He swiped his tongue up almost to her back door, causing her to shiver involuntarily, and when he swirled it around inside her warm, moist passage he felt her squirt a little into his mouth. He found his hips moving unconsciously, pumping into her mouth as she began to knead his balls lightly, and he doubled up on his efforts on her pussy. He began pumping his fingers into her channel, crooking them slightly as he dragged them out, while he continued to French kiss her lower lips and she tried her best to swallow him whole. 

The waves of pressure and the pleasure built, and built, and finally crested. He shot his spunk down her throat as she clenched around his fingers, and the two of them shuddered through a climax that left both of them glassy-eyed and breathless.

After a few moments, they both sat up. Hermione daintily wiped Draco's cum from the corner of her mouth, and stuck her thumb into her mouth to suck it clean. Draco used the back of his hand to wipe his chin, feeling too hot in his half-clothed state. They were both naked from the waist down, but still wearing the tops they’d had on when they started: Draco in his Slytherin jumper and Hermione in Draco’s used jersey. Draco’s hair was wild and Hermione’s looked like she would need to use an entire cauldron of his homebrewed conditioner. Draco’s lips felt swollen, and Hermione’s looked like she had been thoroughly snogged, but also like she needed to be snogged again. Draco could feel himself stirring to life at the thought.  
  
“You’ve been a very naughty girl again, just now, haven’t you, Granger,” he managed to croak.

She smiled impishly at him. “And you’ve been a naughty boy,” she said. “Perhaps _I_ should be punishing _you_ this time?”

Draco found that he liked this idea very much indeed. “Fuck, yes,” he said for the second time that evening.  
  
“Fuck, yes, _Professor Granger_ ,” Hermione corrected in a firm voice. “Off with your shirt, Mister Malfoy. I think we may need to decide on the activities for your detention.”  
  
Draco realized at that moment that he was probably going to die of sexual excess, but damn if it wasn’t his favorite way to go. Hermione’s fingers skated lightly across his collarbone and he scrambled to get rid of his top.

Just another day in the Head dormitories.

**Author's Note:**

> Ever had a roommate who can't keep her hands to herself? I have. It's annoying. But there is more than one way to "keep one's hands to one's self". In this fic, neither Draco nor Hermione can keep their hands to themselves, apparently.
> 
> Draco did actually forget something with regard to spanking and S&M play. He forgot to set a safe word for Hermione. It turned out okay for them because frankly, neither of them really got into the spanking bit, but let's hope that they remember for next time. Let's also hope that they remember to use protection. At least they're both of age, and Draco remembered to always ask for consent -- and you should, too! Practice safe sex, people!
> 
> Lastly - this is only my second smut piece ever, my first that wasn't commissioned. I'd like to learn a bit more of the craft from it. What did you like most about it? What did you like least? Please drop a comment. Thank you!


End file.
